Opportunites
by CricketBeautiful
Summary: Some things never change. Some things do. Ten years is a long time for Mark and Princess.
1. Opportunity Lost

**Opportunities**

A Battle of the Planets Fanfiction in Three Parts

* * *

**Part 1 -- Opportunity Lost**

Mark switched on the autopilot of the small plane and sat back. "Well, that's the last of them."

Princess finished combing out her hair.

They were returning from Keyop's wedding on the coast, chasing the spring sunset as they flew west. Tiny had married almost immediately after the war was over. Jason had found someone along the way. And now, eleven years after their freedom, Keyop had finally tied the knot.

He looked over at his friend and asked, "Whatever happened to us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah. Everyone always assumed we'd get together."

"Life." Her two failed marriages. His live-in girlfriends. Although it had been two years since either one of them had had anyone special.

"But what happened?" he persisted. He turned to face her, questioning.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes. You just stopped spending time with me. It's not like you to hold a grudge."

"It was ten years ago, Mark."

"Humour me."

"It's not so much what happened, but that you didn't even ask me why I was upset."

"So what did happen?" He paused. "I'm asking you now."

She put her comb away. "Remember our last date?"

"At LaFontanna's. You wore a red velvet dress."

"So you do remember."

He grinned. "There wasn't much of that dress to remember."

"And what happened after?" she prompted, watching him in the light from the console, hands kept motionless in her lap.

"I drove you home, let you off at the door -- like always."

"You 'let me off at the door, like always.' I told you Keyop was out for the weekend and invited you in. You told me you had work to do."

"I was testing a new plane on Monday, had to go over the specs."

She let him think about it.

"Oh."

"And it took you ten years to ask me why I was upset."

* * *

**Credits and Disclaimer:**

Thanks to Nancy for her comments on Part 1 when it was first published, Yuki for the encouragement, and Dei for betaing the whole thing. April 12, 2003

Also thanks to Flick Flick and Fitz for comments on the first general release. March 24, 2004

Any remaining problems are my own fault. If you find any, let me know. If you don't, they will be inflicted upon you again.

Sandy Frank owns Battle of the Planets. This piece is written by a fan, for fans, so that we can continue to enjoy the story. 


	2. Opportunity Found

**Part 2 -- Opportunity Found**

They arrived at their home airport late; a blizzard had settled in over the area, and the tower was spacing planes conservatively. As Mark drove them back to his place, where she would pick up her car and drive to her house across the city, they listened to the radio. The arteries were a mess. What would normally be a one-hour drive would take her the rest of the night.

He phrased his offer with care. "Why don't I set up the guest room for you? No sense driving home in this stuff."

"That would be good. Thanks."

While he was upstairs moving things, she looked over the kitchen. He actually had a kitchen, with food. She peeked into the cupboard next to the stove, and found cocoa, sugar, and vanilla. She smiled, remembering how their foster-parents would make them cocoa on blustery nights, and decided to make some now, if he had any milk.

He did. She looked about some more. Vegetables (fresh), and juice, and bread. Ten years had seen a lot of changes in the man who used to run up a tab at Jill's Diner.

He came down and chuckled when he saw what she was cooking. "How did you guess what I was going to suggest?"

"We've known each other a long time."

"Yes, we have." He sighed, leaning against the door frame. "Ten years to prepare, five to fight, and another eleven after that." He looked at her. "You carry them well."

She laughed, unexpectedly pleased at the surprise compliment. "When did you learn how to flatter a woman like that?"

"It seemed like a useful skill."

"You've changed," she observed.

"You haven't."

"I have. You just haven't noticed."

She finished making the drinks and they sat down.

"Princess?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why don't we get back together again? Give it a try?"

_What?_ "Pardon?"

"Why don't we get back together again?"

"I heard you. I just wasn't sure I understood." She warmed her hands on her drink, staring into its murky and familiar surface.

"I'd like us to get together again. Start dating, see if the fire's still there."

_Fire. He thought we had fire?_ "I don't know, Mark. It's been a long time."

"So?"

_And if it doesn't work out, who'll comfort me?_ "It hurt too much, last time."

"Because I wasn't paying attention at the right time."

"Yes. You never paid attention, not to us."

"I should have." He smiled ruefully. "I spent years waiting for that invitation, wanting it, but dreading that I'd have to choose between us or the team." He paused to turn his mug around. "Guess I was too used to denying anything that might be between us, making light of it so I wouldn't have to think about it." He looked up at her again. "I didn't change fast enough when the war was over."

_Years waiting?_

He continued. "I couldn't command someone I cared about."

"You cared about all of us."

"Someone I loved."

_Loved. He loved me._

She took over the conversation. "You never told me how you felt."

"I didn't want to risk it."

"And you never even asked me why I was upset."

"I assumed you'd tell me."

"You assumed! You always assumed. Dammit, Mark, I got tired of being taken for granted! You made me do all the work, take all the risks."

He paused and looked away. "I bought you flowers."

"I had to ask you out for our first date. I had to start our first kiss. I had to invite you in. I had to tell you what you missed. I even had to tell you that you missed something!" She sighed. "Mark, I know telepathy doesn't work. If anyone had it, we would have -- Lord knows Anderson tried hard enough. If you'd asked what was wrong, I would have told you. But you didn't, so I quit."

"You've changed."

"That's what I told you."

"You were never so ... blunt ... critical ... articulate."

"It's been ten years. I've had a long time to think about it."

He thought for a moment. "I like you better this way. You're not trying to please me anymore."

She flushed. "Was it that obvious?"

He smiled. "Jason pointed it out. Scared me silly, not knowing what was really you, and what was supposed to impress me."

He put down his drink and reached for her hand. "Princess, I can't change the past, but I never wanted to hurt you. I've changed. Give me a second chance."

_A second chance. Or was it third? Fourth?_ She'd lost track of the times she'd almost given up on him before that final night. She bit her lips together and shook her head slowly.

"What if I promise to ask this time? If I really paid attention? If I promised to take better care of you?"

"You always took good care of me." _Damn those innocent looking eyes of his._

"Just a few dates, give me a chance to convince you I've changed."

_He always could talk me into anything._ "Okay."

* * *


	3. Opportunity Taken

* * *

**Part 3 -- Opportunity Taken**

And so began what Princess privately referred to as their third attempt. Once during the war, once after, and now.

When he picked her up for their first date, Mark apologized. "I wanted to take you to LaFontanna's, but they've closed. I hope this place is okay."

They stopped at Latino's, a small Latin American restaurant with a French-trained chef on the edge of the campus. The single guitar player created a gentle backdrop to the quiet conversations of the other couples.

They were still comfortable together, but she felt awkward, trying to uncover something special that had been buried under the weight of the years. Finally, Mark took her hand in the candle-light and said, "Relax. Tonight, we're two old friends having dinner, nothing more."

_Strange, how he sometimes knows exactly how I'm feeling and what to say. Too bad he didn't do it more, back then._

After that, he avoided candlelit dinners, taking her instead to action pictures, a concert, an air show. It was freeing, having him do the planning.

By the fifth date, she did relax. He chose a murder mystery matinee; together, they discovered who did it, each picking up clues and building on the other's observations. On the way home, they talked easily about mutual friends, the latest plane he was rebuilding, her latest project at work; they reminisced about the war-- even in the midst of the bloody chaos, there had been some good times.

It was dusk. The oncoming car was in the wrong lane. Mark gripped the steering wheel and swerved. The gasoline tanker behind them wasn't as lucky; nor were the five cars behind it.

First, there was the drum roll of twisting metal. Then, there was silence. Finally, smoke and screams filled the air. Scenes from their past resurfaced.

He gave her his cell phone and ran to get the extinguisher from the trunk. She called in the accident and followed.

A woman in the first car was desperately twisting around, trying to reach her child, unconscious in its carseat. Mark opened the door and pulled her away from the expanding puddle of gasoline.

_Don't worry, ma'am, that's G-3 over there. She'll save your baby._

_He has faith in me._

Princess went in the back door. By the time she had unbuckled the child, she was faint from the fumes.

Mark appeared. She passed him the precious burden before following him away from the danger.

He left her with the child and went to check for other victims.

She checked the child. Not breathing. She started with two slow breaths and checked for a pulse.

She called to the nearest bystander, "You, in the blue shirt. Tell them VSA, vital signs absent, I'm starting CPR."

She landmarked carefully, compressed the chest a full inch, felt the rib-bones give, just as their instructor had described, and began to count as she worked: One and two and three and four and five. Breathe. Not to restart the heart, but to buy time, to keep the blood circulating, to provide precious oxygen to the brain until the heart could be jolted back to its normal beat.

Her rhythm faltered. She was hyperventilating. _It's been too long. I'm not used to this anymore._

He was back at her side, counting with her. She anchored on his voice, trusting it to bring her safely home, just as she used to do years ago. She drew strength from him, and continued.

Eons later, the emergency crews arrived, lights flashing through the smoke.

The paramedics took over, attaching leads and breath mask. His arms were around her, gently pulling her away.

She heard the flat tone. The child's body convulsed. The tone changed. Regular beeping.

The congratulations were a blur.

_We were never treated like heroes before. All we got was a deadline for the mission reports._

At her house, he got out and opened the car door for her, giving her his hand. She accepted it, and he drew her closer. She smelled the smoke in his hair.

He kissed her tentatively, then, when she responded, deeply. Ten years disappeared.

Finally, she pulled away and went up the walk. He followed. She opened the door and paused, holding it while he joined her in the hallway. He kissed her again and locked the door. Then he put one hand behind her back, the other behind her knees, and lifted.

She remembered the times he had carried her before, when she was injured. He never let anyone else carry her. She used to bury her face in his shoulder and cling to him, knowing he would keep her safe. She leaned against his chest now and let him carry her down the hall.

Halfway to the stairs he paused. "Princess, if you'd rather not ..."

"Let's. For old times' sake."

"We never did this, in the old times."

"But I wanted to," she whispered.

"So did I."

He woke slowly, from an old and familiar dream, always with the same unhappy ending. He felt the pillow under his cheek, smelled a faint scent of lavender.

Lavender? It wasn't a dream. And the ending had changed.

He opened his eyes to see her watching him wake. Her expression was unreadable, at least by him.

He tried a smile. She smiled back.

He tried a kiss.

Later, she lay back, breathless, looking over at him. The boys had never told her about some of the ... side-effects ... of the implants.

"Mark, this is crazy." She held back a giggle. "We're acting like a couple of teenagers."

"Making up for our misspent youth?"

She lay there, smiling at him.

He brushed back her hair and kissed her neck. He took the risk. "I love you, Princess. Will you marry me?"

She sobered instantly and stared at him.

_If he had asked me that ten years ago, I would have answered immediately._

_Ten years ago, he wouldn't have asked._

She thought over the last ten years. First had been Fred, one of his piloting friends. He had carried her off in a whirlwind romance shortly after she had broken up with Mark. The marriage had lasted two years. Then there had been George, with a slow, safe courtship. He had been terrified of flying; he had been terrified of many things. The marriage had lasted less than a year; they had kept up the appearance for three.

It was Jason who had counseled her against both marriages; it was Mark who had comforted her when they failed.

She thought of his string of lovers. Only four -- not that many, given the time frame. The last had been two years ago, about the time she had left George. Every one had been short, athletic, intelligent, and had had long, dark hair.

She thought of practical things. She worked downtown and from home; his place by the airport would work as well as hers.

He pulled back, expecting disappointment.

She thought of him -- her new lover, her former boss, her first crush, her oldest and closest friend. The man she had thought she had outgrown had grown too. They both had, in ways that would never have happened if they had been together. _If we had been together then, would we have grown together, or apart?_

_And now?_

"Yes."

* * *

The End  



End file.
